


Their Special Time

by Axelex12



Category: American Horror Story, American Horror Story: Asylum
Genre: Age Difference, Bars and Pubs, Belligerent Sexual Tension, Bisexual Female Character, Cowgirl Position, Creampie, Dancing, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Family Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Going back home, Kissing, Lap Sex, Love Confessions, Multiple Orgasms, Older Woman/Younger Man, Oreos, Penis In Vagina Sex, Post-Coital Cuddling, Rain, Resolved Sexual Tension, Sex in a Car, Simultaneous Orgasm, Slow Dancing, Some Humor, Some Plot, Undressing, Vegetables, Wedding Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-13 11:33:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29900445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Axelex12/pseuds/Axelex12
Summary: Kit/Lana fluffy smutfest clap trap with kids and car sex included.
Relationships: Kit Walker (American Horror Story)/Lana Winters
Kudos: 2





	Their Special Time

"Thomas, that broccoli isn't going ta eat itself." Kit poked at the offending vegetable on his son's plate.

"It's gross," Thomas pouted.

"I ate mine." Julia sang, smiling at Lana.

"Of course you did, Miss Goody Two Shoes." Lana chuckled at the children. "Thomas, if you don't eat yar broccoli, the state will come and take ya away."

"What?" Kit looked at the woman askance. Thomas gaped at her.

"It's true." Lana spooned more gravy onto her potatoes. "They'll say ya aren't eating yar vegetables. It's regulated by the federal government, like everything else."

Thomas' lip quivered. "Wh - where will they take me?"

Kit intervened. "Thomas. They're not gonna -"

"Ta the funny farm." Lana interrupted. "The nut hut. The looney bin. They'll say only crazy people don't eat their vegetables. And ya know what will happen to ya once ya get there?"

"Lana -" Kit raised a hand.

"What will happen to him?" Julia leaned forward in her chair, eager to learn her brother's unsavory fate.

"Ask yar father."

"Dad?" Thomas stared at Kit with wide eyes.

Kit rubbed his temples. Never a dull moment… "A crazy woman will beat yar ass every day with a big stick. Eat yar broccoli."

The boy gracelessly shoved all three florets in his mouth at once. Lana smiled, satisfied. "That's bettah."

"Broccoli makes you fart." Julia wrinkled her nose. "And it makes your poops green."

"D'you make a habit out of studying yar poops every day?" Lana asked.

"Sometimes I look at them."

"She pooped in the yard once!" Thomas laughed, pointing at his sister. "And a crow came and ate it!"

Kit was shocked. "Thomas! Julia! That's - what - why would you do that?"

Julia shrugged. "All the animals poop outside."

"Well, you're not animals." Kit ignored Lana's poorly hidden laughter. "You two poop in the potty. Like people. Hear me?"

"It smelled like ham," Thomas remembered absently. Lana laughed harder, wiping her eyes.

"Stop talking about the poop!" Kit insisted. "No more poop talk at dinner. And chew with your mouth closed, Thomas. Jesus Christ." He shook his head, slicing off more roast beef. "It's not funny, Lana."

"Yar right." The brunette sobered. Or tried to. "Not funny at all."

"One time, Robbie Spooner pooped in the cat box at his house and his mom thought the cat was sick." Julia informed, snorting. "That was funny!"

Lana slapped the table. "That is funny!"

"Listen up." Kit set aside his silverware for a moment, face a pall of seriousness. "I got some important things ta say." The family focused on him expectantly. "First off, I don't want you two socializin' with Robbie Spooner anymore. Second off, Lana, stop bein' a bad influence at the dinnah table. And last off...I got an invitation today. Far all of us. And I accepted it."

"What invitation?" Lana's forehead creased.

"To a wedding." Lana and the children groaned dramatically. Kit scowled. "Hey! Enough of that! We're going to this wedding. All of us. Cyril is the closest thing I've evah had to a best friend, and he doesn't have any family up here. We're gonna go support him on his special day."

"What's so special about it?" Julia asked.

"It's a person's last day of freedom." Lana answered, licking her fork.

"Lana!" Kit stared at the ex-patient of Briarcliff Manor agape. "I said -"

"Is he going to jail?" Thomas wanted to know.

"No!" Kit snapped.

"More or less," Lana overrode smoothly.

"Everybody shut up a second!" Kit insisted now, hands up in a halting gesture, one approaching Lana's offending mouth. He spoke firmly, brooking no argument. "That's enough. We're going to this wedding. As a family. We're gonna put on our nice clothes and smile and throw some rice. No talking about freedom or pooping in yards. Ya feel me?" There were begrudging nods around the table. "Good." Kit sighed.

"But...my church shoes hurt my feet." Thomas complained.

"And my pretty dress is too small now, daddy." Julia pointed into the living room. "It's on my Janie doll now."

Kit looked at the bedraggled doll, staring back at him from a recliner in the living room. It had one droopy eye and a partially melted hand from an incident near the stove. The doll was damn creepy. "Huh." He frowned. The family hadn't dressed up in a long time. A really long time apparently. He met Lana's raised brow. "Lana. You sew. D'you feel like -"

"Making wedding clothes?"

"Yeah."

"I'd rathah shit in the yard."

"Dammit, Lana!" Kit cried. The kids melted into laughter. "Could ya please be-"

"Oh, calm down, Kit!" Lana Winters shrugged. "I guess I can throw somethin' togethah. When is the wedding?"

"Two weeks. On a Saturday. And…" Kit smiled at Thomas and Julia. "If you two behave yarselves at the wedding, the Whaleys say you can come home with their brood and spend the night."

Their eyes widened with excitement, but Lana headed off any shouts and squeals. "Howevah! That means two weeks of eating yar broccoli and not shitting in the yard."

"Awwww." Thomas and Julia chorused.

"Jesus Christ," Kit repeated, shaking his head. "If you two are done you can wash up yar dishes and go play." Thomas and Julia set about dish washing, mostly playing in the bubbles, while Lana watched with a contented smile. " _You spoil 'em._ " Kit admonished gently.

She met his eyes. Hers were suspiciously wet. "They deserve it." He didn't argue with her, watched her shoo his brood out the door to enjoy the last few hours of day. She took over at the sink and he joined her, rolling his henley's sleeves to the elbow.

"Thanks. Far the sewin', Lana. I know it's not a lot of time." His appreciation ran deeper than just sewing, but she knew that. Didn't she?

"Easy enough." She smoothly passed him soapy glasses for rinsing. "What idiot decides to get married during the rainiest month?"

"Idiots who are already a few months pregnant."

"Oh." She chuckled. "That explains things." She ran some fresh water. It steamed as it filled the sink. "Do you need anything to wear?"

"Nah. My suit still fits okay. Little big."

"I'll take it up if you'll try it on far me." She began scrubbing the pots and pans. Kit nudged her hip to switch places with him.

"I can do that. You uh...you gonna make a dress or somethin'?"

"Guess I'll have to." She glared at him playfully from the rinsing. "If you don't think my house dresses are good enough."

"Just a little informal for a wedding." He smiled shyly. "Besides. It'll be nice ta see ya dressed up." Passed her the last soapy pan.

"Oh?"

"Yeah." Kit plopped a wad of bubbles on her head. "Yer pretty, Lana."

"Oh." She stared as he left the sink, hands frozen in the rinse water. The dish soap bubbles crinkled softly atop her head. "Pretty," she murmured softly.

It was amazing what a tiny compliment could do. Especially a sincere one. Lana hadn't given much thought to her appearance in...a long time. Not since her club days, really - when she'd needed to look a certain way to attract a certain clientele. When she'd first joined the convent, she hadn't even had a mirror. And at Briarcliff, the mirror she'd had was really less than encouraging. And now, even in Kit's home, she barely used the mirrors.

There was a full length one in her room. A large medicine cabinet mirror in the bathroom. Another full length in the living room near the sewing machine. One in Kit's room. One in his bathroom. One in Thomas and Julia's room. And one in their bathroom.

And Lana never really looked in any of them. Whether that was a habit or some sort of subconscious behavior she didn't know. Didn't care to know. She only knew that on this night - in the bright light of the full moon - she didn't look half bad in her mirror. She'd measured the whole family earlier, much to the childrens' ticklish delight, and took her own measurements now in private.

She'd gained some weight since she'd been here - in a good way. Cinching her thin, grey gown at her waist, she pinched her hips. Lean, but full. That was muscle...and maybe a little extra cushion. She smiled. Her own cooking was out to get her.

She cocked her head for a moment, finding the house quiet. The kids were snug abed, and maybe Kit was, too. Secure in her aloneness, she pulled the gown over her head. She still hadn't truly breached the boundary of comfortably naked in Kit's home. Plus, there was always the slim chance a child might come barrelling through her door needing something or other. It was better to be safe than sorry, typically.

But right now, naked was necessary, and she wrapped the measuring tape around her chest, brows climbing in pleasant surprise. Her tits had filled out, too - no longer the sad, sagging empty sacks they'd been when Kit dragged her out of the state home. In fact - she turned to examine them from the side - they really weren't sagging at all now. She smirked. Drew her hands up her hips to measure her waist when a noise froze her.

The kitchen. The refrigerator door. Lana threw the measuring tape to the bed and scurried into her gown. The padding footfalls indicated Kit was still up, and scrounging for a snack. She cinched her robe and slipped down the hallway. "What are ya looking far?"

"Ow!" Kit's head banged the top of the fridge when she startled him. "Damn." He rubbed his head, standing in the appliance light.

"Sorry." Lana hid her smile.

"Guess I got the munchies," he admitted, sheepish.

"Hm." He'd smoked pot. Lana knew he did it. It didn't bother her. He always waited until the kids were gone or in bed. He never drove or got rowdy. Actually, she found him entirely amusing when he smoked the stuff. He got very...philosophical. And very hungry. She slipped past him to open the cabinet above the fridge. "Well. I did hide these from the kids." She shook a pack of Oreos at him.

"Awww man! I nevah look up there!" He accepted the cookies. "Thanks, Lana."

He was happy. That made her happy. "Ya want some milk?"

"Hell yeah, I want milk. I got Oreos!" He whispered excitedly. She poured two glasses, chuckling. "Are you about to eat Oreos with me? At 11 o'clock at night? In your jammies?"

"Looks that way." She shrugged. They sat to the table. Kit was already pulling the chocolate sandwich cookie apart to lick out the filling. "Like father like son," Lana murmured. She dunked a whole cookie, let it set in the milk for a few seconds.

Kit was watching her, now eating his chocolate wafer by itself. "How do you know when you've dunked it long enough?"

"Instinct." She waited, propped on her wrist, watching his glimmering eyes over milk and cookie. "See? Now." She extracted the cookie, and bit it clean in half. Gestured to the portion left behind. "A nice clean line. A good dunk breaks down the cookie enough to make a straight break line on the bite. No crumbs. No mess. And a nice balance of soft and crunchy in yar mouth."

"Damn, Lana." He was captivated by this presentation. "That's...that's fuckin' science."

She resisted laughter."It's preferable to yar graceless twisting and licking technique."

"There's a lot to be said for the twist and lick technique." She blushed at that. He grinned, leaning toward her. "Here. Try it."

She took the cookie, giving him a suspicious glare. But when she gripped the cookie, Kit stopped her with a hand on hers. "No, no, no, Lana! Stop!"

"What?" She hissed.

"You - you - you gotta be delicate with it! Jesus. It's not a carburetor!" He took the cookie back. "Look here. Watch. Gently." It was almost hypnotic - watching his long, lean fingers caress the cookie. "Ya gotta balance your grip on all sides. But just kinda...cradle it. Then, you can start the twist. Soooo slowly." Lana swallowed. "Juuuust like this." She watched the cookie separate smoothly. "See? Now you got a nice undisturbed patch of icing. Like a little flap in there."

"I apologize," she whispered. "I didn't realize how delicate the operation was, doctah."

He snorted. "You try it now. Do it. Go on." Pushed another cookie toward her.

"I will!" Lana took the cookie. "Stop shovin' it at me! Yar gonna break it!" She held the cookie as delicately as he had.

"Go slow!" Kit reminded.

"I know how ta do it!" She began the twist. Slowly. But when she lifted the top wafer, her icing pad broke in two. "Oh, seriously?"

"That's what happens when ya aren't careful enough!" Kit admonished.

"I'm just gonna eat it anyway! What does it mattah if -"

"If you break the icing flap, you can't achieve true fulfillment."

She blinked at him, preparing to dunk the cookie half. "What?"

Kit gave another cookie a slow, methodical twist. Held up the icing half for her to view. "This." He pointed. "Is the icing flap. And in order to attain true Oreo Nirvana, this flap has to remain intact for extraction."

"Extraction."

Kit leaned on his elbow, deadpanning at her. "Shall I explicate the action of extraction for you, ma'am?"

"Please." She was entirely too amused by this.

"First. You gotta work just the tip of your tongue underneath the icing pad. All the way around. Like this." He demonstrated. Lana felt entirely too warm. "Then. You gotta kinda find its weakest spot. Like your tongue muscle can just tell. And then you just slide all the way under there and lift it up. See? Right there?" He pointed to a wet, sticky icing bulge. Lana nodded. Kit attacked the cookie again. "Mm." He finally pulled back, victorious. "Ah?" Proudly, he showed her the whole, intact icing pad on his tongue and the cleanly licked cookie.

"Impressive." Strangely, she meant it. "Guess I'll never have the skills ta be a licker. And I'll have to settle for the sad life of dunking." She sighed, dunking another cookie.

"Judy." He was definitely high. "There's always gotta be a balance, ya know? Dunkers. Lickers. They're like yin and yang."

"Yar sayin' we balance each othah out."

"Perfectly."

Lana chewed her cookie thoughtfully as Kit's self satisfaction grew. "I guess yar right, Walkah."

On Thursday afternoon, he left work early. There was no work to be done at the moment. The rain tended to keep the transmission repair business slow, and Kit couldn't really complain about that. It meant time with the kids. And time with Lana.

He enjoyed talking to her before the kids got home. It rarely happened that he could be so selfish. Nights like the Oreo tutorial were rare and precious. Lana was funny. Engaging. Smart. She always had the best advice, and she laughed at his jokes. He was excited to share a new one with her today, slipping his greasy work boots off on the porch. He could hear the stereo playing inside and grinned. Maybe they could even sneak in a dance lesson before the bus brought the children home.

**_I want to mother you, smother you_ **

**_With a love you've never known_ **

**_I want to talk to you,_ **

**_Say sweet things to you_ **

He paused in turning the door knob, grin slowly turning to wonder. Lana was singing. He blinked. He'd never heard her truly singing before.

_**Let you know that I'm yours alone** _

_**Now, you need a lot of loving,** _

_**And my darlin', you need it now** _

_**You've been alone for so long** _

Sure, she hummed or murmured along softly from time to time, but this… He rested his forehead against the door, just listening for a moment. She sounded amazing. Clear and deep and sultry.

**_You've forgotten what love is all about_ **

**_Let me rock you in the cradle of my arms,_ **

**_Let my love protect you from all harm_ **

**_I'll be your shelter when you want me to_ **

**_I'll be your comfort when you need me to_ **

Quietly, not wanting to break the spell of her song, he opened the door and stepped inside. His sock feet secreted his arrival even further - good, because he would have hated for her to see his initial facial expression at the sight that greeted him. The shocked gape, wide eyes and slack jaw. But damn…

_**I want to mother you, smother you** _

_**With a love that's gentle and true** _

_**I want to talk to you,** _

_**Say sweet things to you** _

Her back was to him, and he wouldn't have known it was Lana if he hadn't known it absolutely couldn't be anybody else. Because that would be ludicrous - a strange woman in their house - with golden curls and legs that belonged in one of those magazines he hid in his bed slats. A tall, curvy creamy skinned vixen in white, satiny panties and a too short camisole with a lazy strap slipping down a toned arm.

She bent over the sewing table and he felt faint, leaned against the door jamb. And maybe he groaned helplessly - or made some other desperate, masculine animal noise of instinctive evolutionary lust because she whipped suddenly and gasped.

The moment could only have lasted a millisecond. Perhaps a physicist could have measured it precisely. And perhaps they could have measured the diameter of her beautiful surprised eyes widening, the circumference of her full lips in that perfect 'o' shape, the depth of the blush in her impossibly high cheeks.

But Kit was no scientist. And every possible measurement paled in comparison to the simple, overwhelming, crystalline crispness of Lana's fingers steadying herself against the sewing table. Her breathy gasp of "Kit!" And the ensuing scramble of fingers clumsily silencing stereo, a whirl of pale blue, and a palm firm over that impossibly pretty mouth.

The clock ticked. She breathed heavily. He could hear each breath, see her chest rising and falling behind the partially sewn dress she held up to her body. "Lana…" He thought he spoke, but his tongue was dry as a bone. He cleared his throat. "Lana." Better. "I'm - I'm sorry. I -"

"No!" She silenced him. "I'm sorry. I didn't know you'd be -"

"Yeah, I uh - I left early."

"I was workin' on my dress and -"

"You couldna heard me at the door -"

"I didn't hear you at the door."

Their words spilled awkwardly and hurriedly, overlapping and interweaving. Their hot pink flushes matched, and their hands went self consciously into their hair at the same time.

"I should let you -"

"I'll get dressed!" She scurried barefoot past him, a skin and satin blur, holding that half finished dress over what was left of her modesty.

Her door closed firmly. Kit stared at the sewing table, eyes focused on the overturned stereo. Suddenly a breath left him that he hadn't realized he was holding. "Holy shit," he whispered to himself. HIs muscles ached, tense. All of his muscles. He was grateful for his shapeless coveralls covering all.

Her door opened and he jumped a little. Clearly Lana's strategy was to cover the awkwardness with casualness. She was dressed now. A simple forest green skirt and gingham blouse. She began bustling about the kitchen, tying on an apron as if more layers might make up for the earlier lack of layers. "How um...how was work."

"Fine." HIs voice was back. Barely.

"Good!" She was unnecessarily perky. "I uh - I finished Julia's dress this morning. She's gonna love it." In the refrigerator. "Aaaand I got started on Thomas' vest and trousers. Um. I went with brown. Ya know. Ta match anything, really." She plopped a solid pork loin on the stove. "You think that'll work?"

"Sure." He wasn't sure if she was referring to the pork loin or the brown trousers. He didn't care. All he could think about was legs and lace and Lana's belly button.

"Yar jacket's done, too. I put some darts in the back to trim it up a little."

"Cool."

She was chopping carrots now - almost violently. "Julia's dress has a flare. She's gonna be twilrlin' around all day in that thing."

"Yeah."

"I left the hem a little long on Thomas' pants. I hope he doesn't fray them too much." She moved swiftly to rinsing mushrooms.

"Nah."

"Shit, Kit." He shook a haze away to see her leaning on the sink, head bowed. "I'm sorry."

"No, no, no!" He unstuck his legs to approach her. Hesitantly, he rubbed her back. "I'm sorry. I shoulda knocked. Or yelled or...or something."

"It's yar damn house, Kit." The mushrooms clunked into the sink. "You shouldn't have ta worry about walkin' in on yar naked housekeeper."

"Housekeepah?" He couldn't control the inflection in his voice. He hadn't thought of Lana as a housekeeper. He really hadn't thought of Lana as anything other than Lana.

Until today. And now, he wasn't exactly sure what he thought of Lana anymore.

She waved dismissively. "Or...whatever I am. Hell, what if you'd been…" She sought words.

"Who else would just walk in the house, Lana?"

"I dunno. The plumbah?"

"You probably woulda got some free pipe laid."

 ** _"Kit!"_** She was bright red when she turned to him (at last) and swatted him with a dish towel. "Dammit, I'm bein' serious!"

"Me, too!" He laughed, grabbing at her elbows. It felt good to laugh. It felt good to see her laughing. The awkwardness dissipated. The tension evaporated. "I mean, we could use a new faucet in my bathroom if you wanna flash a little leg or somethin'."

"Kit!" She laughed harder, but she swatted harder, too.

"Ow! Ouch!" He backed off, still laughing, "Stop it, woman! The kids are gonna come in and see you abusing me!"

He caught the towel when she tossed it at him. "Yar right." Back to mushrooms. "I'll wait and abuse you when they're not here."

He shed his coveralls in the privacy of his bathroom. Leaned on his sink while the cold water ran. "Jesus Christ," he murmured to himself. He splashed his face. The image of bare shoulders and a slipped strap burned onto his retinas.

He spent the next week entirely beyond distracted. How was it possible that three (or was it four? five?) seconds could leave such a haunting impression? He marveled at the details the human brain could absorb in such a flash of time - the curl of neat toes, the slightest hint of piqued nipple on surprisingly firm breasts, a delicate curve of feminine stomach.

He'd misplace the keys to a customer's coupe recalling a kink in the fabric of her panties on a cocked hip.

He woke gasping from a dream of her throat moving on a nervous gulp.

He nearly tipped the grill over imagining her warm skin beneath his stubbled cheek.

"Ah!" He jumped when her fingers sleeked up his thigh.

"Sorry!" Lana murmured around the pins held between her lips. "I'm tryin' not ta tickle ya."

She knelt before the ottoman, measuring the seam at his ankle.

Thomas and Julia snickered on the couch, watching their father's discomfort. Kit scowled at them, but still squirmed like a kid himself. "Can't I just take my pants off for this?"

Lana's eyes - a twinkle in the warm brown - flicked up to him. She plucked the last pin from her lips and placed it in his pants hem. "You think I want ya ta take yar pants off?" Her tease was quiet, evading small ears.

Kit felt heat in his cheeks and neck. "You know what I mean."

"Actually." She stood, dusting her hands. "I'm done. So yes, you can change now, and lay these pants on the sewing table please."

"Finally!" He bounced off the ottoman, tired of standing awkwardly to hide his erection. His lower back ached. He rubbed it after changing into his jeans and tee. Back in the living room Julia had stood her Janie doll on the ottoman, pinning and measuring away at the unfortunate doll's equally unfortunate garments. Thomas watched, occasionally cutting a fabric scrap to his sister's specifications. Lana was on the porch, smoking, watching the children through the screen door. Kit joined her. For a few minutes, they contentedly watched the peaceful children at play.

Lana seemed to have forgotten the awkwardness between them. The fact she'd been so nearly brilliantly bared to him a few days earlier. And Kit tried to ignore the awkwardness, feeling like it might be entirely his own awkwardness.

Maybe it was no big deal, after all. Maybe even if she'd been completely naked it wouldn't have mattered as much as the teasing glimpse he'd gotten. Maybe if he'd had the presence of mind to turn around, to back out the door, to -

"Kit?"

"Yeah, Lana?"

"I want ya ta get Julia a new doll."

He leaned a little closer to Lana, able to better see the 'lifesize' Janie doll his daughter dressed. It was truly a bedraggled mess. Patches of dark hair were missing. Her left leg was glued straight into its socket now, giving her a painfully crippled appearance. A withered, melted hand beckoned. One bright blue plastic eye rolled accusingly toward the adults as if to say, "Kill me now."

Kit shrugged. "What's wrong with that one?"

Lana flicked their now shared cigarette over the porch railing. "It wants souls."

Kit didn't argue.

Saturday morning saw a whirlwind of activity in the Walker house. The family ate breakfast in robes and pajamas, hurrying through pancakes and bacon. Kit tried to keep curious children's conversation pitfalls to a minimum with little success.

"Dad, what happens at a wedding?"

"Well. Today, you two'll get ta see our friend Cyril and his lady friend...um…(he drew a blank)..."

"Beth." Lana offered.

"Yeah. Cyril and Beth are gonna exchange vows at the altar."

"What are vows?" Thomas asked.

"They're promises." Julia explained. "Right?"

"Right." Kit gestured for the syrup.

"What do they promise?"

"To be togethah forevah," Lana answered. "Until death does them part."

"Like mom and dad." Julia murmured.

"And my mom, too." Thomas said.

The table quieted. Kit drank his coffee. "Yeah. Like your moms."

"So after the vows they'll be married, right?"

"Right."

"Then what happens?" Thomas drew designs in his leftover syrup with his fork.

"Then everybody eats usually." Lana began gathering dishes. "And there's dancing. And cake."

"Oooh, cake!" Thomas loved cake.

"Are you and Lana gonna dance, Dad?"

"Yep."

"No!"

Kit and Lana spoke over one another. Julia looked between the two.

"Of course we're gonna dance," Kit assured, winking. "We'll all dance."

"Not dressed like this we won't." Lana turned from the sink. "We have to get ready."

Baths were strictly monitored, ensuring adequate washing with moderate playing. Hair had to be sorted; Kit introduced Thomas to pomade while Lana plaited Julia's long locks. As anticipated, Julia did not stop spinning in her pink flare dress, and Thomas immediately complained about the discomfort of his shoes and stiffness of his shirt.

"Hey! You two sit down on the couch before you get these clothes dirty!" Kit instructed the excited children while Lana tied his tie. "These kids…"

She chuckled. "They look wonderful, though." A pat on his chest. "And yar not so bad, either."

"Yeah?" He was blushing.

"Yeah." She turned toward the children - now antsy on the couch - but Kit caught her arm. "What?"

"You…" He cleared his throat. "You look good, too, Lana. Damn good."

She blushed, too. "Yeah?" Shyly, she tucked a curl behind her ear. A half turn. "I did a pretty good job on these gathahs."

Her fingers were at her hips and so were his eyes. "Is that what those are?" He pictured white satiny panties.

"Alright! Come on, heathens! Get yar rain boots! Julia, come ovah here and let me put a scarf on yar head. This damn rain is gonna have both of us lookin' like mad women."

Kit pulled the truck up to the porch to avoid the downpour as much as possible. Soon, they felt like a family, bunched onto the seat together - all slightly wet in their rain gear. Thomas and Julia chattered and wriggled about excitedly, especially considering how slowly they crept along the highway. They giggled whenever the windshield wipers squeaked and soon had a made up song utilizing the sound effect. Kit laughed, buoyed by the good spirits and by Lana's toothy smile.

There was a soft pink lipstick on her lips. It matched the color on her high cheekbones, which may or may not have been makeup. The cornflower blue dress she wore set her brown eyes on high heat and enhanced the rich gold in her abundant curls. Perhaps he'd been conservative when he'd said 'damn good.' She looked ethereal.

At the little Methodist church, Kit recognized the few gruffly dressed 'ushers' rushing people in beneath large umbrellas. "Hey, Steve!"

"Kit! Man! Good to see ya! And the kiddos! Whassup, my small grown friends?" Thomas and Julia exchanged high fives with Steve, soon sprinting to the church doors where the Whaley brood waved madly. And then Lana stepped out of the truck.

Kit caught Steve's doubletake. "Whoa there, Miss!" Steve caught hold of her elbow. Kit understood the irresistible need to touch her somehow. "Watch your step. I'd hate to see you ruin those beautiful legs. I mean - shoes!" Steve corrected quickly, but not quickly enough, and Kit hid a smile when Lana's cheeks got a little brighter.

Kit followed close behind the pair under his smaller umbrella, shrugging when Steve cast him an appreciative over the shoulder glance.

They were seated on the groom's side. It was a small group there, but familiar and welcoming. He didn't miss the curious, envious, covetous looks that Lana received. She, however, seemed blissfully unaware of her own beauty or the attention it garnered. She focused on the children, taking a quick moment to straighten Thomas' hair and wipe Julia's patent shoes.

They'd managed to get settled when the piano started, and Kit sighed relief. The whole ordeal was almost over.

But the reception made up for the dullness of the wedding. Their buddies had a band, and were already playing by the time the Walkers made it into the hall. Thomas and Julia immediately ran to the packed Whaley table, keen to frolic with their friends.

Kit and Lana sat at a smaller table nearby, engaging in pleasant conversation here and there until the bride and groom entered. Attention diverted, they were able to chat intimately.

"It was a nice service." Kit piled cheese slices on a water cracker.

"Mm-hm. Nice and quick." Lana snapped into a cocktail pickle. "Don't suppose there's a bar?"

"I don't." Kit leaned into her space, watching the newlywed's first dance. "I think Cyril was on his own footing this bill. Her folks weren't too impressed with her choice."

"That's too bad. Cyril seems like a nice fellah. And she certainly has nice taste in dresses."

"That's a real compliment coming from you!" Kit grinned at her.

"Yeah! I can hardly tell she's pregnant."

"Ouch."

"Ahem." They looked up at the nervous man fiddling with his fingers at their table. Kit recognized Mr. Maddox. He owned the only hotel in town.

"Richard!" Kit extended a hand, opted for the familiar name. "How are ya, sir? And how's that new transmission runnin'?"

"Oh, fine. Fine, Kit! Thanks ta you."

"Aww, it's nothin.'" Kit shrugged. "What can I do for ya?" But he had a feeling Richard Maddox hadn't come over to see him. And he was right.

"I um - I must admit I was hoping to introduce myself to your companion."

"Oh!" He feigned surprise. "My date, you mean?" Maddox's struggle was real. "Well, this is Lana. Lana Winters."

Lana extended her own hand, mightily fighting a full-blown fit of laughter. "A pleasure," she purred.

"Judy, darlin' this is Richard Maddox. He owns the Country Lodge." He wrapped an entirely non-possessive arm around Lana's waist, felt her tense.

"Such a lovely place," she commented. "And always seems busy."

"Well." Richard was backing away slowly. "Supply and demand, you know. Good to see you, Kit! And um - Judy. A real pleasure to meet you." He retreated into the crowd.

"Yar date?" Lana glared playfully.

"Hey. I saved you from any numbah of awkward dances."

"Hmph." She pouted a little into her punch. "I might have liked a couple of awkward dances. Richard wasn't half bad."

"He looks like a mole person!"

"I always wanted to go into the hotel business."

" _Bullshit_!" Kit laughed.

"Who's that one ovah there? The tall one with the chiseled jaw?"

"Chiseled jaw…" He searched the room, not liking the phrase 'chiseled jaw' at all. "You mean Andy Soloman? He runs the landscape company."

"No wonder he's so tan," Lana murmured, staring.

"He's married!"

"He's still lookin'."

"They're all lookin', Lana." Kit huffed. "It's that damn dress."

"They like my gathas?" She winked.

"They aren't admirin' your sewing skills, sistah." Kit gently tugged her skirt hem over an exposed knee. "But they're definitely interested in gathering ya."

"Kit?"

"What?"

Her eyes twinkled at him. "Let's dance."

It felt great. Not just dancing with Lana - but watching all the jealous eyes watching him dancing with Lana. She stuck out here in Kit's world: a world of routine, regimen, and realness. She was a tall, leggy, mystery. A fascination. He was starting to see the attraction. It seemed that the more he thought he got to know Lana, the more there was to discover about her.

And here, as he'd expected, on a dance floor among strangers, they relaxed for the first time in days. The awkwardness of that earlier afternoon's surprising intimate revelation was put behind them, forgotten (if only for the moment). Kit focused on Lana's smile, her laugh, the feel of her waist beneath his hands. Soon enough, they had everyone dancing, and he caught Cyril's grateful smile.

Outside, the storm worsened, unnoticed by the revelers. Thunder drowned out portions of the best man's toast, and soon enough, the gentle old preacher announced that everyone should leave to avoid predicted flooding. It was not the best news to punctuate a wedding reception, but the bride and groom weren't terribly put out. They'd had a wonderful day despite the rain.

"Kit! I can't thank ya enough fer bringing yer family today." Cyril was shaking his hand warmly. "It meant a lot, man, especially the dancin'! We were scared nobody was gonna get out there!"

Kit clapped his friend on the shoulder. "Leave it to Lana to bring 'em all to tha floor."

"Hey, right?" Cyril laughed, then quietly. "Lucky you, by the way. She's a real lookah."

Kit blushed hard. "I know. Hey. Good luck, Cyril. Really. I wish you two a happy life togethah." A manly embrace as crowds bustled by them.

Next Kit hugged his children. "You two were great, today. Thanks for not takin' a dump on the dance floor."

"You're welcome, dad!" Julia smooched his cheek. "We're going to Ms. Whaley's brother's house to play on his pin pon table!"

"Ping pong," Thomas corrected her firmly.

"Oh, you don't know what it is, either." Julia poked her brother.

Kit looked up to see Barbara Whaley smiling broadly. "My brother's house is closer, so we're gonna wait out this storm there. I promise we'll take good care of yar babies, Kitten."It was a pet name she'd graced him with when they first met,, but it still made Kit grimace. And he noticed Lana trying to hide her smile at his discomfort. "We'll see yous tomorrah when we bring 'em home, eh?"

"Thanks, Babs," he grumbled. Two could play at the pet name game…

The ushers were back at it with their large umbrellas, and they had to push a few cars out of some significant mud holes. Fortunately, Kit had parked on an incline, and soon he and Lana were pulling into the queue to leave. "Wasn't so bad was it?" He asked.

Lana - soaking wet despite the usher's best efforts - looked at him askance. "Everything between the downpour was fine, sure."

He wasn't noticing how her dress clung to her curves now. He was trying to notice only the road ahead - which was already difficult given the windshield wipers' struggle to keep up with the deluge. "Well. The dancin' was fun."

"Mmhm." She shook a soggy heel into the floorboard, scowling. "My stockin's are soaked. I gotta get 'em off."

"Oh. Right." She was reaching beneath her dress, fiddling there. Kit swallowed. The road, the road, the road… But his peripheral caught curl and thigh just the same. He knew from gathering laundry that Lana still wore old fashioned stockings. This meant there were loose garters beneath that blue dress now, just...waiting to slap against sweaty hips and wrap around his eager fingers. "Jesus," he whispered to himself.

"Huh?" She plunked a wet pair of rolled stockings on the dashboard.

"Nothing."

"I hope the Whaleys are alright with the kids." Lana chewed her lip, looking at the solid curtain of water sluicing down the passenger window.

"They're probably already safe and dry at her brother's house by - Whoa there!" His arm shot out instinctively across Lana's midriff, protecting her from the truck's sudden pitch. "Damn!" They'd clearly hit a flood patch, turning the truck nearly 90 degrees. "You okay, Lana?"

"Yeah," she breathed. Patted his hand on her belly. "I'm fine. You?"

"Listen." He wiped at his now sweaty lip and squinted out the windshield. "I'm gonna pull us off the road up here. This is crazy."

"Will we be any safer on the shoulder?" Lana was clearly worried despite her cool demeanor.

"That open fence up there is one of McNealy's orchard driveways. He's a nice guy. He won't mind us pulling up in his trees to wait this madness out." Carefully, in the lowest gear, Kit pulled the struggling truck out of the flood patch. A few yards later, they were on the steadier, drier ground of a country drive. The large overreaching apple trees cut the downpour significantly, and for the first time in hours, Kit could truly see what was ahead of them. "Here we go. Uphill all the way." He didn't miss Lana's sigh of relief when they pulled into a dense cluster of trees and orchard cast-off. A high pile of broken bushel baskets provided a wall against the rain. "Much bettah." He smiled his own relief. "Right?"

Lana was scanning the territory. "Not bad. And if we get hungry, we can have apples." She pointed up.

"See. What we have here is a winning situation." They laughed together, a brush with danger making adrenaline run high.

"Wonder if McNealy would mind if I take a couple for a pie latah."

"Aw, hell. Yar gonna make a pie latah?" Joy creased his features.

"Well, I can't make one right now."

"Maybe the storm'll just knock some into the back of the truck."

"Fate." Lana snapped her fingers.

"Yep." It grew quiet in the truck. Kit could hear their breath. Suddenly, he imagined Lana might be cold. "Oh, hey." He took off his jacket. It was wet, but his dress shirt was dry. He removed that, too, and handed it to her sheepishly. "Just...if you're cold."

"Thanks." She smiled. Dabbed at her hair with the sleeve. "I'm just really wet right now."

Kit gulped. "Sorry." She meant wet in general, of course. From the rain. Not ' _Oh-Kit-I'm-so-wet-for- your-hard-cock-give-it-to-me-now_.' Not that kind of wet. But that was what his traitorous, bastard brain heard.

"Yar sweet." She draped the shirt over her shoulders. Sniffed the collar. "And ya smell good."

"Yeah?" He smirked. "Well, it was a special occasion and all, so I broke out the cologne."

"Me, too!" She chuckled, slapped at his leg. "Great minds…"

"Here." He motioned to her. "Come on in. Let's have a sniff." She leaned toward him and he sniffed over dramatically, making her laugh harder. "Oh, yeah. Smellin' like a rose garden!"

Truthfully, it was a much deeper scent; warming skin, some kind of spice, and cooking sugar. But how to go about telling a woman she smelled like something he wanted to lick till it was raw? Best not to.

They took in their surroundings. Occasionally fat raindrops fell from the leaf canopy above them, but seeing the grey sheet of rain falling between the trees was strangely beautiful. Its muted static reminded Kit of the sea - ebbing in and out. "How long do you think this will last?" Lana asked quietly.

"I dunno. Can't be that long now. How much water d'you think is up there?"

She shrugged and sat back, seeming to settle in. A bare knee taunted him. He tugged his white tee free of its tuck, hoping to hide a burgeoning erection as much as possible. Cleared his throat. Lana seemed content in the familiar silence, but it began to feel awkward for Kit. Stifling, even. And their body heat was beginning to steam the base of the windows. The pressure built and built inside of him until -

"Lana."

"Hm?"

"Listen." He wiped at his again sweaty lip. "I'm sorry, but I keep thinkin' about the othah day."

"The othah day?" She seemed to have genuinely forgotten.

"Yeah. Ya know. When I came home early and you were -"

"Oh!" A little blush. She did remember. Waved him off. "Kit, don't even worry about that. It was a genuine mistake and…" Suddenly a thought occurred. "Wait. You aren't mad at me, are ya?" The concern brought her to attention. "Kit, I would nevah - I mean, if the kids were home or -"

"God, no! Lana." He faced her, seat squeaking as he turned. "Yar a - yar a good person. That's - that's not what I meant at all."

"Oh, good." She sighed. "Well. What do ya mean, then?"

"I mean, I feel bad."

"Kit. It really wasn't a big deal. I think we were both a little embarrassed, but really. I was fine. It's not like I was- ya know - butt ass naked."

"Thank God," he murmured. "I could'na handled that." He chuffed soft laughter. There was a look on her face that didn't understand, that was approaching hurt. Gently, he dissuaded it. "Lana. I guess I just never thought of ya as...you know...a sexual thing."

"Oh." Her lips retained the shape of the word for a second. "Oh!" Near-hurt morphed into discomfited surprise. "Um…"

"Yeah." He rubbed at his head.

"You mean…"

"I haven't really stopped thinkin' about it." The confession was a load off his shoulders. Honestly, he felt a million times lighter.

"I guess I did think you were actin' a little funny this week."

"I had some trouble sleepin.'"

"Because of -"

"Yar belly button."

"Ah."

"Among othah things."

"Oh."

"Lana. I don't want this ta make shit weird between us or mess up the family we've made. I shouldna fuckin' said anything. I'm sorry. Dammit, I didn't mean ta -"

"Kit." She stopped him, looking at him with such openness on her face, such vulnerability in those warm brown eyes. "Are you attracted to me?"

He blinked. Hoped his earnestness matched hers. "I guess that's...an understatement."

She stared. Reading his face. Her lips moved, miniscule nervous tics. She was so pretty. "Lana," he whispered. His fingers brushed her jaw and when she moved the first centimeter forward, he met it with his own centimeter.

Their first kiss - so soft it tickled - left nearly a foot between their bodies. But the tickle was so nice, so inviting that they went back for seconds, deepening the pressure. She scooted awkwardly on the leather seat, moist dress offering some resistance. So Kit slid an arm smoothly around her waist and pulled until she pressed against him.

" _Mmmmm_." They both moaned into the kiss, into the heat between them. Lana's hands cradled his head, caressed his neck. He felt her nails barely scratching and needed to breathe. "Jesus, Lana…" He couldn't stop. Devoured her neck as he inhaled that addictive smell.

"Kit." Just a breathy gasp that lit him on fire. "That feels so good!"

"You feel good." He muttered, mindless, into her pulse. His hands traveled up her back, taking in the solid substance of her. And he wanted more. And so did she. Already her hands were tugging his tee shirt up, up, stroking his bare skin. He broke away to allow her to remove the soft material, lips back to hers. His fingers were busy, too - working at the tie on her hip.

Even through the fabric of her bra and dress, he could feel her nipples harden against his chest. She jolted when one of his hands slid inside the loosened dress. His hands were cold against her now heated skin. "Mm!" She broke from his kiss, neck lolling back and he attacked it."Kit. I can't -"

"Oh." He shifted, hand still skating toward breast, to allow her to climb onto his lap. "Christ, Lana…" Easier this way, to push her dress from her shoulders, to find and flick the little plastic flower front of her bra.

"Kit, are we really -"

"Yeah." Why was she even asking when her fingers were on his zipper? When he had to speak around a peaked, pink nipple? When he was desperately trying to find a solution to the panty problem beneath her gaping skirt. "Here," he chuffed, nudging beneath her curvy bum. "Up."

She boosted, using his shoulders as leverage. The horn gave a sharp honk when her rear brushed it. "Shit!" They laughed in each others' mouths. Her left leg rose enough for him to stretch that satin barrier across and down. Their laughter continued when she managed - somehow - to extract that one leg, resettling with a huff on his nearly freed erection.

"That's - that's so hot." His observation functioned on several levels - recognizing the heat of the moment, of this partner, the physical molten property of her moisture meeting his tighty whities. His fingers dipped to explore further and she froze on his lap, a deep moan of pleasure.

"Oh, Kit…"

"God, Lana. I want ya so bad. I can't help -"

"Up!" It was her turn to nudge him, fingers curling over the waistband of trousers and underwear. "Get these off."

He complied, understanding her earlier struggle to move in the truck's tightening confines. His brief rise again jolted her shapely ass into the horn and they growled at the report, breaths catching when they both resettled.

Lana was quick to maneuver and Kit was quick to stop her. "Lana, wait!"

"What? What!" She blew a curl out of her mouth, shamelessly rubbed her clit against the head of his already dripping cock. "What's the mattah?"

His eyes rolled in his head. "I just - fuck, that feels amazing - I just - just slow down, Lana!" He gripped her hips, flushing. He wouldn't last long.

She sensed his hesitance, seductive eyes softening. "Shhh." Gentle kisses now. "It's okay, baby. Trust me."

He moaned. She was already moving, anyway, and he was already slipping into bliss, pushing past tight, hearing her whines of want. "I trust you," he murmured, surrendered. "Oh, Lana. That's…"

She was still sinking, biting her lip against his ear because the burn reminded her it had been a damn long time since she'd done this and she hadn't considered her damn long young lover. But when she settled fully - flush against Kit's firm belly - everything felt "Mmmm, perfect," she breathed.

"Yeah?" He was sweating. His palms slid over her hips, around to squeeze that shapely ass. "Good." Then she moved for the first time and he groaned. "Fuck, yar killin' me, beautiful."

She pulled back, kitten eyes slits, cupped his jaw as she rose and fell at her torturous pace. "You think I'm beautiful?" She panted, toes curling at the curl in her abdomen.

Kit chased her lips when she arched. "I think yer gorgeous, Lana." He did. As a man who'd never had a particular type, he'd always found attractiveness in women entirely subjective. He wasn't a leg, breast, or hip man, per se, but all those things on Lana were exceptional. And her confidence accentuated the physical; her daily delights, her easy smile, the flirts that weren't flirts. All the trappings of womanhood that he'd never known in his previous, younger lovers - his still uncertain wives.

This woman knew things. She knew herself, her pleasure. And she damn well seemed to know his. Her nails trailed fire up his back on a particularly long undulation. He let his fingers explore, less shy with their shared sweat slicking his things. "Can I make ya feel good?" He whispered in her ear, licked the lobe. "Can I touch ya here?"

His thumb brushed her clit and she lurched on his lap. "Yesss!" She hissed. And it did the trick. She posted faster with his side to side caress, one hand tightening on his shoulder while the other steadied her rhythm on the steering wheel. "God, Kit, that's it." Her voice deepened.

"Ya gonna come fer me?"

"Yes!" She whined, gasped into his mouth.

The sweat between them had slicked the leather seat, making her stability challenging. He worked harder to steady her, left arm tense round her and hand a painful clutch on her ass. But she didn't complain. She was too caught up in the spiral of pleasure wrapping her spine, crying out wordlessly into his neck. "Good, Lana. That's good, sweetheart. Mm."

It was better than good, actually - the milking grip on his cock. He wanted more, his own voracious release. But this wasn't the way that was going to happen. "Hold on, darlin'." He couldn't get traction. She grunted when he boosted her up, still gripped by orgasm, onto the steering wheel.

It took both hands to hold her hips steady while he fucked her, and the close quarters made things awkward still. She raised her knees impossibly, bracing one foot against the seat behind him and folding one over his shoulder. Kit grinned at her agility. She raised an arm to bastion against the windshield and he watched the heat of her hand spread a foggy imprint there. "Amazing, Lana." His balls tightened, hips hurtled into her painfully.

Their shared cries of passion were accompanied by brief claxons from the horn, a staccato soundtrack to his pounding. And when the tide overwhelmed him - the wave of pleasure drowning his sense - he wrapped her in both arms, pumped his seed helplessly into her shaking body. His final lunges elongated until the horn blared constantly and they could barely hear their gasping breaths over its noise.

"Mmm." Lana nuzzled his ear sweetly. Sweat dripped from his nose in between her tits. "Kit," she murmured.

"Ung." His lower back burned. He couldn't move. Absently, his head turned to kiss her sticky knee still on his shoulder.

"Kit."

"Yeah. Yeah, I know." The horn. Mustering strength, he pushed back with his feet, pulling her from the steering wheel back to his lap.

"Ah!" They both grunted and groaned, worked over and relaxed.

"Mmm." Kit stroked her face, loose curls brushing his knuckles. He kissed her softly. "That was incredible."

She blew bangs out of her eyes. Tapped the seat behind him. "I'm little old for this shit, ya know. I've pulled a lot of important muscles."

He chuckled. "I promise ya a full body rub-down when we get home. How's that?" His voice was hoarse, but earnest.

"Really?"

"Really." He promised. "On a proper bed. With candles and everything."

"Candles?" Her eyes sparkled girlishly. "That sounds awfully romantic."

"Well, the power's probly out, so…"

She laughed, giving one final push up and off of his lap. "Probly so," she agreed. "What a mess…" She was straightening the panties bunched around one thigh, trying to get them back on while he adjusted his accoutrements as well. "Oh, nevah mind." Frustrated, she cast the satiny ball into the floorboard with her shoes.

Kit chuckled. "Ya know. It's not like yar gonna be dressed that long, anyway."

"Promises," she teased, clipping her bra closed. She peered out into the orchard beyond the trees. "Looks like it's let up enough ta get home." Tied her dress closed.

"In a hurry ta get home?" He passed her the wrinkled dress shirt.

She smiled secretly, reaffixing her hazel hair with a few large pins. "I believe I was promised a sensual massage."

"Oh, yeeeah." He laughed, starting the truck. "Ya know what else I was thinkin'?"

"What?"

He navigated smoothly down the gravel drive, avoiding large puddles. The rain had lessened to a gentle constant. "I was uh - thinkin' I could demonstrate my twist and lick technique a little bettah for ya."

"We're out of Oreos."

He stopped at the end of the drive and faced her squarely. "I wasn't gonna use Oreos this time."

"Oh." She blinked. "Oh!" A full blush spread across her high cheekbones and she covered her grin shyly. Kit laughed as he pulled onto the highway. He had a wonderful feeling that shyness wouldn't last.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos Are Welcome.


End file.
